


Beached

by i_claudia



Series: Check/Mate [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 21:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For lolafeist's prompt: <i>Merlin recovering on land from an injury at sea and being all landsick and missing Kilgharrah and Arthur having no way to understand these things because he's a big huge landlubber.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Beached

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for lolafeist and posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/65643.html?thread=1620331#t1620331). (13 January 2011)

Arthur lay in bed, the sheets still damp beneath him, and watched the long, lean lines of Merlin, framed against the window and the grayness of the winter moors outside. Merlin had his palms against the glass, as if by pressing on it he might escape the house, the warm room with its banked fire and heavy curtains.

“Merlin,” Arthur said. “Come away; you’ll only make yourself worse.”

It was a long moment before Merlin did so, slowly enough that Arthur nearly regretted the words. “You won’t recover faster if you catch cold,” Arthur continued, quiet.

“Three months,” Merlin said, though he came to sit, perching naked at the foot of Arthur’s bed. “Three months of festering here, useless, and every month closer to peace—” He broke off, as if realising his words might sound more unkind than he had meant them.

Arthur had already forgiven him every slight, had known from the beginning that this enforced convalescence would wear on Merlin, on himself—had known that Merlin was a man born to action, that inaction wore on him far more than any wound sustained in battle. It stung all the same, enough that he sat up and said, “Festering?” before he could quite stop the words.

Merlin’s looked softened at that, and he turned toward Arthur, drawing his nearly-healed leg gingerly up onto the bed. “Perhaps not festering,” he admitted, penitent. “Not with—not with you. But I’m not accustomed to land, dear heart. Land never sits easy with me.” Arthur had known that too, could read the ambition Merlin tried to conceal in the curve of his bent shoulders and the heaviness of his brow. Post-captain Merlin might be, but Merlin had always been destined for greater, deserved the blue flag of an admiral and more. As rumours of peace reached them, Merlin could not help but dwell on the reduced avenues open to him, of the hundreds of post-captains all clamouring for a handful of ships. 

Arthur reached out, laid his hand carefully on Merlin’s thigh, above the shiny pink skin of his newest scar, because he could think of no words to say to make the situation more bearable. Merlin sighed, leaned into Arthur for the kiss which followed, bore down until Arthur was stretched beneath him over the sheets once more


End file.
